(Almera POV)
The desert did not end.
It transformed.
For days, the horizon had been nothing but gold and heat—rolling dunes that swallowed sound and distance alike. Then, slowly, almost deceptively, green began to bleed into the edges of the world.
Palm fronds first.
Then the glimmer of water, thin and bright like a blade laid flat beneath the sun.
The oasis city rose ahead of us, white stone terraces carved into the earth as if the desert itself had exhaled and allowed life to exist there. Water flowed openly—openly—in channels that ran beside the road, catching the light and reflecting it upward so that even the shadows seemed cool.
I leaned forward slightly in my saddle, unable to hide my awe.
In Alessandria, water was guarded, measured, and hoarded like treasure. In the capital, fountains were symbols of power, not comfort.
Here, water was everywhere.
"This is Aqaris," Arthur said quietly beside me. "The oldest oasis city on the southern coast."
